


496. I'm cool all by myself, but together we golden

by SevlinRipley



Category: It - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Sexual Language, Friendship, High School, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Slash, Secret Admirer, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 16:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15122957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevlinRipley/pseuds/SevlinRipley
Summary: Prompt: secret admirer





	496. I'm cool all by myself, but together we golden

"Well, well, well," Richie said, grinning wide as he read over the pink piece of paper that'd been folded in three. It had toppled out onto the top of his shoes when he opened the locker. Richie had expected it to be scrawled with some inane name-calling. A drawing of him being dealt with in some vile manner. But instead there was a few simple words, with a simple doodled border that said: 'I like seeing you everyday; thanks for not dropping out yet.' "Look who's finally getting the recognition he deserves!"

Eddie peered around Richie's locker door, his own locker being Richie's direct neighbor. Pulling the paper so that the words were in view, Eddie dipped an eyebrow down and let the paper flop back up into Richie's grasp. "Yeah, right! You probably put that in there yourself."

Richie smirked, shaking his head. Trying to ignore the gut reaction shame-blush attempting to creep its way onto his face. He cocked his head back, across the hall to where Bill was wrestling his books from his pack. "Someone's just jealous, amiright?" Bill gave him a glance, but didn't otherwise acknowledge. Likely preferring not to get between the two idiots. "What is it, Eds? Wish someone liked _you_? Or maybe - maybe! _You're_ my secret admirer, and you're just trying to throw me off your scent," Richie exclaimed, throwing his locker door shut, and an arm over Eddie's shoulders to pull him towards Bill in the middle of the hall.

With a wrinkled nose, Eddie shoved backwards at Richie's shoulder. "More like trying to get your scent off of _me_. You reek!"

Bringing his fingers to his chest, spread out, and head ducked back in offense, Richie gasped out a, "Rude, Edward!" Then he threw that same hand out, stopping Bill by the chest. And presented his closest armpit. "You don't think I reek, do you Billiam?"

Bill swallowed, got this quirk to his mouth, and then pushed passed Richie's light barricade. "That's d-disgusting, Richie," Bill said, loud enough that Richie could hear as he slowly started to catch up to Eddie and himself.

"Fine, but don't come lookin' for me next time you need affirmation. Jeez, I gotta get me some new friends!"

 

At lunch, Richie had the note out again, flapping it over his tray of untouched food, brimming with pride as he told the rest of the losers, "Someone's _in love_ with me! Well, probably more than one person, but one person finally decided to bravely move passed how utterly intimidating I am, and finally told me."

"Hardly," Eddie said, from his side, cracking open his carton of milk, nose upturned as he rolled his eyes. "They basically just told him to stay in school. Contrary to the wishes of the faculty."

" _Eddie_ ," Mike said, soft, from Eddie's other side, before reaching across to gently take the note from Richie's hand. "Let me see, Rich." Richie watched him, expectantly, as though the note held more than eleven, simple words on it. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, when Mike turned a soft smile to him and handed the note back just as gently as he'd taken it. "That's sweet, Richie. Any ideas who it is?"

As Richie fingertips met the folds of the paper, Bev's did too. She lifted her brows, asking if she could also see it. He relented, pulling his hands into his lap, sure, now, that the note was going to make rounds and come back into his possession after it'd been thoroughly inspected. "Could be anyone," he said, only half-contemplating the actual possibilities. He picked up his fork and rolled some peas around, a look of disgust appearing on his face until he elbowed Eddie. "Eds is my prime suspect though, since he's so adamant that it's nothing."

Eddie let his head fall into Mike's shoulder then, groaning something about putting him out of his misery. Mike just chuckled, and leaned his head down to press a kiss to the top of Eddie's head, smiling even wider when Eddie sat back up, flushed and blinking, as he reached for his milk again. "If it _is_ Eddie, I sure wish he woulda told _me_ first," Mike said, throwing Richie a wink over the top of Eddie's head.

"Sorry Mikey. Can't help how attractive I am..."

"No, and I wouldn't want you to, either," Mike said, on a fake sigh. "Then who would be the eye candy of our group?"

"Exactly!" Richie said, throwing his hand out. This, accidentally, propelled his fork all the way over into Bill's tray. Who was looking at the note like he was gazing right through it, empty, clear as a window. Richie cleared his throat, not bothering to apologize for the hurdled cannon fodder, asking for both his note, and his fork back, if Bill would please. 

Ben had to nudge Bill a moment later, to actually gain his attention. "What, Billy boy?" Richie asked, amused as Bill startled and dropped the note into his coleslaw.

While Bill rushed to pick the note up and frantically wipe it over his flannel, Richie wasn't bothered. What was a few stains, anyway? Mostly, Richie just wanted it to be kept in one piece. "Recognize the writing or something? Wanna be my detective? You and Stanley: Hardy Boys?"

When Richie's eyes turned to Stan, he missed the way Bill pressed the letter into Ben's hand like it would be dangerous if left in his possession. Stanley looked at him, considering, eyebrows just ever so slightly drawn together, cupid's bow particularly peaked. "Wait. Do you _actually_ know who it is?" Richie asked, amazed.

He hadn't meant it. The writing was odd. Purposefully odd. Mis-matched in style, moving from chicken scratch to proper olde English-style cursive lettering. Kind of like a ransom note without the cut-and-paste magazine scraps. Even the border was messy, but the details too intricate to suggest a lack of intent. Surely Stan didn't have a legitimate lead...

At his question, Bill finally decided to speak up, in addition to throwing Richie's fork haphazardly down the table, the clatter of which had Richie snorting out a laugh while Eddie pointedly sighed his disappointment. "No. I m-mean, I don't kn-kn-ow. There's n-nothing fam-miliar about it to me. Maybe it's someone in a d-different grade?" Bill asked out.

The note, pink, now sporting darker pink spots, finally made it back into Richie's vicinity, by-way of Bev. "Maybe," Richie said, face scrunching up. He didn't really know anyone in any other grades. In fact, he barely spoke to anyone outside of the Losers. Frankly, he was a little surprised anyone else even knew he existed. Maybe there _was_ pay-off to being the class clown. But then, that'd rule out anyone in another grade, really...

Richie sighed, suddenly exasperated. Maybe someone just put the note in the wrong locker. Or if it was just a trick... maybe it was better if Richie never found out who was responsible. He didn't press the issue any further and Stan remained quiet, eyeing the members of his group as he chewed at his carrot sticks.

(The truth was, there was really only one person Stan was actually paying extra attention to. Only one person he _needed_ to pay attention to. Considering Eddie and Mike, and Ben and Beverly were all happily taken.)

 

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked, leaning his side against his locker as Richie taped a letter of his own to the front of his locker.

Smoothing his finger tip over the tape until it went less frosty-colored over the navy blue metal, Richie half-heartedly shrugged. "Leaving my secret admirer a letter," Richie said, pointing at the obvious scrawl of letters that said 'Dear Admirer' along the front. What was written in the letter, Richie would keep to himself. Eddie didn't need to know that inside he'd written the words, 'Just so you know, you left your note in Richie Tozier's locker so. You might want to double-check the locker number next time.'

Because in the end, Eddie'd probably been right. It was hardly an admirer of Richie who'd sent the note. Richie had known for years that no one could ever _like_ him. Which is why he kept his own crushes buried in the depths of his mind, locked away and never, ever acknowledged or touched. Because what use was it to spend his time fawning over someone who wouldn't _want_ that?

Still, he kind of admired whoever sent the note, no matter who it was intended for. So he wanted to give them a fair chance by gently informing them their initial plan had failed. If they decided to come back.

"Uhhh... isn't that kind of backwards?" Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side, looking through the loop of the paper, curious. "Besides. Anyone could just take this." He gave it a light tug, reminding Richie the letter was right out in the open.

Which, yeah, thanks, Richie _knew_ that. "Duh, Eds. How else would they get to it?"

Eddie's mouth tipped sideways, and then pursed as he reached a hand up to ruffle over Richie's hair. "Let's get to class, lover boy," was all he said, tone clearly hopeful that whatever Richie intended to happen with his letter actually happened, but frustrated over the flaws in the plan. On Richie's behalf. It was the last class of the day, and Richie didn't know if _whoever_ would have time to get to the letter before Richie was collecting his things to go home, but it was worth a shot.

 

When the bell rang, Eddie had peeled away with Mike, to his locker first. Leaving Richie alone to walk the hall to his locker. He gave Bill a small smile when Bill met his eyes, pulling text books into his own bag from across the way. Eyes lingering over Bill's mouth where he was chewing at his lower lip. Just for a second.

Then, upon turning to swivel the little knob of his locker door, Richie's eyebrows arched up, and he smiled to himself, seeing that the letter he'd left was no longer there. Whether the right person got it, or someone trashed it, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to let himself get upset about what he didn't know. It was out of his hands, now, anyway. No one could say he didn't _try_ to avoid impeding the unfurling of a love story.

What really fucked him up, though, in a good way, was that when he opened his locker another note fell out. This time, more hastily scribbled over lined paper, but there was at least a little bit of the same detailing from the border on his other note. Enough to tell him it was from the same person. Richie swallowed thickly, feeling his heart beat nearly out of his chest as he deciphered the words there. 'Yeah. I like seeing you every day, Richie Tozier. Should've been more specific last time. It was supposed to make you happy. Guess I fucked it up.'

A hand landed on Richie's shoulder, startling him back to reality. Back from reading the words over and over on a never-ending cycle, in disbelief and careful appreciation. "Y-you okay, Rich?" Bill asked, before biting into the side of his cheek, eyes running over the paper Richie held with reverence, in his hands.

"Yeah, totally," Richie said, quickly crumpling the note up in hopes that Bill hadn't seen what was written. A clear acknowledgement of Richie's insecurities right there, confirmed by some third-party stranger. Like Richie needed _that_ in front of Bill, of all people. Sad pity and baseless compliments, trying to tell Richie how great he was. Those were the kinds of things that'd gotten Richie into the pickle of a crush in the first place.

Bill swallowed, watching Richie shove the ball of paper into his pocket before grabbing his pack and slamming everything in that he needed without thought to creasing papers and bending corners of books. "W-wanna go to th-the arcade to-day?" he asked, flinching slightly when Richie slammed his locker shut and started walking away from Bill's touch, hand falling back to his side.

"Actually," Richie started, heaving his backpack onto his shoulders, "Stan said he wanted to talk to _you_ a couple periods back, when I asked him the same thing. So maybe you should go find him. You can meet me at the arcade later if he lets you."

 

"Stan the man," Richie cried happily, continuing to mash the button on his tenth-favorite game in the arcade. "You're not Bill!"

Stan laughed under his breath at that, coming to lean up against the machine so that he could see Richie's face, even if Richie was too tunnel-vision to show the same manners, as they talked. "Very observant. Maybe you should've been your own detective."

"I didn't think I had a detective," Richie said, mouth dropping open in concentration as his eyes bugged out even more, behind his thick lenses.

"Well... I just found it interesting that someone went to such lengths to cover up their actual handwriting. I mean, they'd only have to take it _that_ far if they thought you'd actually recognize it. At least, that was my opinion. You could've just had a very over-enthusiastically shy admirer."

Richie's face pinched slightly, hand gripping tighter to the joy stick. "Why are you speaking in past tense? You didn't murder my secret admirer did you, Stanley?"

Mouth quirking tighter together in amusement, Stan shook his head, curls falling out, and then back in to place as he huffed out a laugh. "No... It's because I got their permission to make them your not-so-secret admirer. _If_ you promise not to treat them differently because of it. And trust me, this is like, your _only_ chance of finding out, because it took a lot of pestering on my part, and the _only_ reason they want you to know, is so that you don't think it's someone messing with you."

Hands pausing altogether, Richie froze. Neck tendons tightening with the force of the accusation that he might have such low self-esteem as to believe _that_. (Which he did. And had maybe considered throwing both notes out, by the time he walked through the arcade doors, too much time to think to himself while alone and making the trek from the school, there. But to his credit, he _hadn't_. Yet.)

"That's a dumb rule. How the hell am I _not_ gonna treat them differently? Besides... maybe they just lied to _you_ , too."

Whatever. So what if Stanley knew how he felt about everything? It wasn't as if Stan hadn't been his best friend since the day they'd met. He probably already knew, despite Richie's best efforts. The bastard.

"Look. That's the rule. You wanna know, or not?" Stanley asked, folding his arms across his chest, to best deliver the ultimatum. However, at Richie's answering silence and the blare of 'Game Over' that resulted in Richie's shoulders sagging impossibly low, Stan relented, with a soft sigh. "Rich. They weren't lying. This person isn't a liar..."

Richie's brow stitched together behind his frames, eyes narrowing as he dared to glance at Stan, for real. "What, you know 'em?"

Nodding his head, Stan pursed his lips in a way that said he was likely breaking someone else's rule in that moment. Going outside the parameters of the agreement. The one in which he could do some huge reveal and maybe Richie could ever feel that he'd been loved, romantically, by another human being. It was quite the sacrifice, Richie could admit. One he didn't know that he deserved. But maybe... Just maybe he was too selfish not to go ahead and take it.

It wasn't like he was gonna be a jerk about it, anyway. Hell, he could see himself getting a crush on someone for the sheer fact that they wanted him. Like, that was a big fucking deal, and he wasn't gonna just sleep on that, probably.

Although, that wasn't very fair, he knew. So maybe... not.

Richie scratched at the side of his head, chest puffing up on a long inhale, unsure. Before he finally breathed out, "Okay. Tell me."

 

"Bull _shit_." That was the first greeting Bill got that day, as he rounded the corner and stopped short, seeing Richie leaning with his back against his locker, ankles folded out in front of him, and arms across his chest. "What the fuck, Big Bill!" Richie said, far too loud. Bill's nostrils flared as he looked straight ahead, contemplating moving passed his locker and straight out the back of the school, to his house.

"R-Richie," Bill said, with a formal nod of his head. As if he didn't know he was being called out. He swept Richie out of the way with the back of his hand, and promptly opened his locker to begin his morning routine. His stomach dropped out when several folded papers fell to the ground over his feet. And when he could manage, he glanced up at Richie, askance, to find a wide grin on Richie's face, and even a tinge of pink to his freckled cheeks. "W-w-w -"

"Same to you," Richie said, when Bill's stammering looked like it was seizing up his whole body. "What the fuck."

"W-w-why are th-these -?" Bill let loose a huge sigh, body loosening up as he bent at the knees to scoop them all up, imprudently ripping them open to see single letters on each piece, until the whole of the intentions were revealed in his mind. 'I like you, too.' But... "You - do?" Bill asked, head bobbing down as he asked, eyes wide, and hands shaking.

Richie slapped his hand to Bill's upper arm, head tilted to one side, face smug as he said, "Sorry. I know I broke the rule, but it was a dumb one anyway... Jesus fuck, I've liked you since we were kids. Like I'm gonna keep that to myself after you sent Stan the Man as your wing man! Good shit, dude. Bra _vo_!"

"Re-Really. R-Rich, you pr-promise?"

Taking in a sharp breath, Richie squeezed at Bill's arm, smile falling to something softer as his cheeks heated up a deeper shade of crimson. "Duh, Bill. You're fuckin' hot and you got a dick the size o' Texas! How could I fucking not?"

Bill had the grace to look around them, embarrassed, before a wide, toothy smile lit up his face. "Sh-shut the f-uck up."

"Make me," Richie said, leering as he dipped in closer. And Bill? Was half-tempted to risk the suspension that might come from taking Richie up on that dare.

Instead, he said, soft, and suddenly careful, "A-after school?"

He watched, pleased, as Richie's Adam's apple bobbed, and Richie gave a breathless little, "Yeah, sure." Then, falling back a step, toward his own locker, Richie added, with a glint in his eyes, "Unless you wanna do me under the bleachers during lunch, _High School Sweetheart_ ," and tossed a wink Bill's way that was just lecherous enough that it shouldn't have made Bill's throat go dry. But... Well, he'd been dealing with that dilemma for a while now, and didn't have hope to _ever_ commit to finding Richie obnoxious over out-right butterfly-inducing.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Travie McCoy's "Golden"


End file.
